A
Reflection on Mark 6:45-52
In today's
Gospel, Jesus sends his disciples ahead in a boat while he goes up the mountain
to pray. When a strong wind rises against them, they struggle and strain at the
oars through the night. Then, in the darkest hour before dawn, Jesus comes to
them, walking on the very waters that threaten to overwhelm them. At first,
they're terrified, thinking he's a ghost, but Jesus immediately reassures them:
"Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid." When he gets into the boat
with them, the wind dies down, and Mark tells us they were utterly astounded
because they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.
This last detail is striking. The disciples had just witnessed Jesus multiply
five loaves to feed five thousand people, yet here they are, amazed all over
again, as if seeing his power for the first time.
What does it mean that their hearts were hardened? It means that even those
closest to Jesus, even those who witnessed His miracles firsthand, struggled to let the truth of who He is sink deeply into their souls. We're no different. We
can Pray the Rosary, meditating on the mysteries of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. Yet, when storms hit our own lives, we can find ourselves right
back in that boat, straining at the oars, forgetting that Jesus has power over
every wave. The Rosary invites us into this very dynamic: we hold the beads and
repeat the prayers, not because we've mastered faith, but precisely because we
need to soften our hearts again and again. Each Hail Mary is like a stroke of
the oar, moving us forward, while each mystery is Jesus coming toward us on the
water, reminding us he is present even when the night is dark and the wind is
strong.
Notice that Jesus doesn't calm the storm from the shore. He comes to them in
the midst of it. He doesn't wait for the sea to settle before making his
presence known; he walks on the chaos itself. This is the heart of Catholic
faith, Jesus enters into our struggles, our confusion, our fear. He doesn't
remove every difficulty from our lives, but he joins us in the boat. When we
pray the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary, we see this same pattern: Jesus
doesn't avoid suffering; he transforms it by his presence. The disciples were
astounded when the wind ceased, but the greater miracle was that Jesus was with
them. The Eucharist teaches us this truth every Sunday. Jesus doesn't just help
us from a distance; he gives us his very self, his Body and Blood, to sustain
us through every storm. Our hardened hearts become soft again when we receive
him, when we invite him into our boat.
The question for us is simple but profound: Will we let Jesus into the boat?
Will we recognize him coming toward us in our difficulties, or will we mistake
his presence for something frightening? The disciples had witnessed the
multiplication of the loaves, and we have even more: we have the complete
revelation of Jesus's life, his death on the cross, his resurrection, and his
real presence in the Eucharist. Yet we, too, can forget. We, too, can find our
hearts growing hard. The Rosary is a gift for people like us, people who need
to be reminded, again and again, of who Jesus is and what he has done. As we
hold those beads and journey through the mysteries, we're training our hearts
to recognize Jesus in every circumstance, in the joys, the sorrows, the
glories, and even in what seems like darkness. We're learning to say with
confidence, even in the storm, "It is Jesus. He is here. I need not be
afraid."
Questions
to Think About:
·
When
have I found myself straining at the oars, forgetting that Jesus has already
demonstrated his power and love in my life? What "loaves" has he
multiplied for me that I've forgotten about when new struggles arise?
·
Do
I ever mistake Jesus's presence in my difficulties for something frightening,
rather than recognizing him coming to help me? What might be preventing me from
seeing him clearly in the storms of my life?
·
How
can praying the Rosary help soften my heart when it grows hard with worry,
doubt, or fear? Which mystery speaks most powerfully to the specific struggle
I'm facing right now?
·
Am
I willing to let Jesus into the boat of my daily life, not just asking him to
fix things from a distance, but inviting him to be truly present in the midst
of my chaos?
©2026 James Dacey, Jr., OFS
